i am here to do the devil's work

Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”

“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”

“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”

By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is. 

You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it. 

🐌

Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack. 

The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.

You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway. 

He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences. 

Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going. 

“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip. 

Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”

Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered. 

Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation. 

🐌

Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.

You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun. 

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you. 

He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work. 

You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”

It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at. 

Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”

You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”

He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”

“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.

Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.

By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind. 

You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood. 

Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.

As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”

“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this. 

Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”

“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question. 

Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”

Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”

“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”

“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again. 

Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong. 

Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.

🐌

Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything. 

Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention. 

Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision. 

Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding. 

It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency. 

Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car. 

By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.

🐌

Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.

“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.

Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”

Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”

“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.

“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”

Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier. 

“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot. 

“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire. 

Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”

Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down. 

Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”

He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”

“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car. 

It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.

Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”

“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.

“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre. 

Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire. 

You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again. 

Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.

When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”

Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack. 

Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.  

As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe. 

🐌

A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine. 

It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it. 

“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”

“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”

You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking. 

Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”

“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”

“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”

Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited. 

You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”

This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”

Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it. 

He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age. 

“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”

“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”

You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”

“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information. 

“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.

All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”

That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be. 

He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”

Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”

“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice. 

The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again. 

Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret. 

Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. 

“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say. 

You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”

Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic. 

“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”

“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”

🐌

You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself. 

“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you. 

“I can’t,” you said but went back to it. 

You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.

“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this. 

You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”

He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”

“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”

Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky. 

“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”

“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have. 

He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”

You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”

He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”

“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason. 

“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up. 

Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.

Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”

“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”

You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”

Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake. 

He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”

He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”

“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away. 

Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”

“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land. 

You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”

“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”

He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”

“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”

It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”

His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect. 

Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face. 

Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him. 

“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”

“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said. 

“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”

All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”

“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it. 

You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip. 

Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”

Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”

You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier. 

Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake. 

As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy. 

He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”

“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower. 

The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover. 

Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet. 

You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”

With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”

“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction. 

It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this. 

You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.

Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time. 

Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group. 

Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan. 

“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower. 

He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants. 

Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you. 

He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma. 

“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there. 

Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”

“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”

Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”

All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it. 

You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”

He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.” 

He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric. 

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped. 

His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed. 

Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs. 

You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”

“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too. 

“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock. 

He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”

“Better or wor—”

“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke. 

Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”

He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”

Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”

As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it. 

With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head. 

Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”

He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”

His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”

The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”

You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”

“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting. 

Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it. 

When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds. 

“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed. 

His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now. 

Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap. 

“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground. 

His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much. 

Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”

You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”

Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”

He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”

🖤🖤🖤

Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.

Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”

“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”

“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”

By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is. 

You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it. 

🐌

Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack. 

The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.

You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway. 

He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences. 

Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going. 

“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip. 

Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”

Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered. 

Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation. 

🐌

Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.

You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun. 

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you. 

He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work. 

You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”

It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at. 

Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”

You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”

He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”

“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.

Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.

By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind. 

You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood. 

Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.

As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”

“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this. 

Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”

“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question. 

Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”

Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”

“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”

“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again. 

Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong. 

Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.

🐌

Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything. 

Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention. 

Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision. 

Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding. 

It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency. 

Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car. 

By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.

🐌

Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.

“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.

Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”

Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”

“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.

“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”

Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier. 

“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot. 

“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire. 

Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”

Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down. 

Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”

He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”

“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car. 

It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.

Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”

“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.

“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre. 

Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire. 

You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again. 

Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.

When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”

Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack. 

Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.  

As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe. 

🐌

A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine. 

It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it. 

“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”

“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”

You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking. 

Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”

“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”

“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”

Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited. 

You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”

This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”

Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it. 

He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age. 

“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”

“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”

You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”

“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information. 

“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.

All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”

That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be. 

He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”

Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”

“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice. 

The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again. 

Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret. 

Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. 

“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say. 

You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”

Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic. 

“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”

“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”

🐌

You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself. 

“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you. 

“I can’t,” you said but went back to it. 

You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.

“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this. 

You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”

He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”

“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”

Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky. 

“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”

“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have. 

He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”

You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”

He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”

“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason. 

“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up. 

Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.

Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”

“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”

You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”

Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake. 

He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”

He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”

“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away. 

Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”

“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land. 

You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”

“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”

He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”

“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”

It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”

His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect. 

Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face. 

Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him. 

“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”

“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said. 

“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”

All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”

“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it. 

You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip. 

Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”

Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”

You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier. 

Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake. 

As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy. 

He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”

“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower. 

The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover. 

Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet. 

You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”

With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”

“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction. 

It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this. 

You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.

Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time. 

Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group. 

Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan. 

“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower. 

He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants. 

Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you. 

He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma. 

“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there. 

Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”

“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”

Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”

All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it. 

You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”

He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.” 

He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric. 

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped. 

His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed. 

Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs. 

You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”

“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too. 

“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock. 

He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”

“Better or wor—”

“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke. 

Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”

He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”

Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”

As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it. 

With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head. 

Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”

He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”

His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”

The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”

You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”

“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting. 

Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it. 

When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds. 

“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed. 

His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now. 

Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap. 

“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground. 

His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much. 

Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”

You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”

Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”

He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”

🖤🖤🖤

Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.

Shaking your head as you swallowed the mouthful of cheap red wine, you finally were able to say, “You are so fucking wrong.”

“Camping is boring and miserable,” Bucky said with a shrug, then glared at you, “Doesn’t matter how you try to dress it up; not having access to a toilet just isn’t how I spend my downtime.”

“Okay, first: gross,” you say as you set the now empty glass down. You lean forward and wave at the bartender before turning back to Bucky and explaining, “Your only experience was in the dark ages or during Dubya-Dubya two. Neither of which is what I do, and I have a great time, even without indoor plumbing.”

By the time you were leaving the bar and heading back to the compound, Bucky was going to be joining you on your next solo camping trip. You weren’t quite sure how this happened, but it is what it is. 

You really did love camping and went as often as you could, usually on solo trips. Getting away from the compound and all the nonsense it involved was a necessity. If you could, you’d live in the woods, but you didn’t have that option yet. Your big dream was building your own cabin, and you knew you’d get to that eventually as long as you didn’t die on a mission. For now, going out to the land that Tony let you use every couple of weeks was enough to take the edge off and make the superhero nonsense worth it. 

🐌

Stiffly sitting in the passenger seat, Bucky was nervous. He’d seen how little you’d packed, the majority of which was food, and didn’t think he’d be able to endure a whole weekend in the middle of the woods. Sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be an issue, but he didn’t know how you managed to get everything you needed into such a small backpack. 

The loud music that you were singing along to wasn’t bad, though. Plus, you had packed enough alcohol for both of you to drink, even getting some Asgardian stuff from Thor so Bucky could ‘properly enjoy camping’, as you put it. He wasn’t even sure how this had started, but he’d agreed, and it was too late to go back now.

You tapped the steering wheel, dancing a little in your seat. Bucky had never seen you like this, and it was why he was nervous. You always seemed to be in a better mood when you came back from these trips, but not like the giddy creature sitting next to him currently speeding down the highway. 

He didn’t mind; if anything, he liked seeing a new side to you after working with you for so long, but it had him worrying about screwing this up or making it weird. On the very unlikely chance that he enjoyed this, he didn’t want to make it, so he couldn’t come again. Not as often as you went, but maybe a couple of times in the summer would be nice, assuming that camping with you wasn’t as awful as his other experiences. 

Toward the end of the drive, you pulled off to take him to your usual lunch spot: some sketchy-looking drive-in on the side of the almost deserted highway. Bucky didn’t realize drive-ins were still a thing or that you’d insist on going. 

“What do you want?” you asked, grinning as you turned down the music for the first time since starting the trip. 

Bucky shrugged, “A couple burgers? Doesn’t look like they have much else.”

Ordering enough food to feed two super soldiers, even though Bucky was the only one in the car, he was taken aback by how quickly you ate. Finishing two cheeseburgers and your own bag of fries before him, you were back on the road, still happily sipping on the strawberry shake you’d ordered. 

Bucky had anticipated trying to make small talk or gossiping, but you didn’t seem interested in that. The first time you’d spoken to him since gassing up the car was asking what he wanted for lunch, almost four hours into the trip. His expectations had been tossed aside as he tried to enjoy the music and not have to force conversation. 

🐌

Pulling off the dirt road and parking the car, you turned to Bucky and smiled as you killed the engine and got out. You didn’t bother locking the doors; no one else was around out here. Tony had a house a couple of miles south, but you stayed far away from that. No need to give Morgan ideas about the fort you were building. Maybe when she got a little older, Tony would let you take her out and build one of her own. That was how you learned all this stuff, and you had been going camping with your family since you were able to walk.

You connected one of your earbuds, popped it in your ear, and pulled open the hatch on the back of your car. Shouldering your backpack, you left the food in the back of the car since it was cool outside and started walking to a spot that would work for the tent. You didn’t want to freak Bucky out by making him sleep outside without a tent, even if he’d slept in worse places. Better to make this as user-friendly as you can for his first time camping for fun. 

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked a little ahead of you. 

He sounded uncomfortable and was walking too fast. Nothing about being out here was about moving that fast. You had to run around like an idiot and jump off buildings to earn a paycheck, so you had no intention of moving faster than a casual stroll until you were back at work. 

You sighed before you said, “No plan, really. Need to get the things setup; then I’m going to go work on my fort.”

It didn’t take long to set up the tent, even with Bucky trying to take over. Any time he would reach to grab one of the rods or a stake, you let him have it. If he wanted to rush through things, that was his problem. Eventually, he’d see that it was about enjoying the process and not getting as much done as possible. You weren’t interested in mindfulness or living in the moment, but you did like moving at a more natural pace and not being shot at. 

Once the tent was done, Bucky looked over at you like he was awaiting orders. He brushed his hands off on his pants before he asked, “What next?”

You zipped the tent up after grabbing the gear you’d need: your ax, pocket knife, folding saw, and a bundle of cord. With your eyebrows raised, you walked past him and patted his shoulder, “Whatever you want, big boy.”

He turned but didn’t follow you as he asked more silly questions, “Where are you going?”

“Fort time!” you shouted, holding your ax over your head as you walked into the woods, putting your other earbud in.

Your fort was less than 200 feet from where you’d set up camp, but you did need to do some maintenance before picking what to work on first. A few of the supports were loose, and you needed to be cautious about how much of the cord you used. You had certain rules about fort building and camping that you’d picked up from your dad, namely: only bring what you need, no going back for extra, don’t leave nature worse than before you were there, and don’t cut down any trees if you can avoid it.

By the time you got the maintenance done, you were looking for deadfall and not finding much. Making larger and larger circles around your fort, you were getting worried. It was fall, and you never used every dead tree. Other animals and plants in the woods needed the deadfall, and it was important to leave some behind. 

You had planned on redoing the roof this weekend, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Confused, you walked back to where you’d set up camp and saw something you hadn’t expected. The closer you got, the more interested you were: Bucky was chopping wood. 

Pulling your earbuds out, you popped them in the case and then shoved them in your pocket as the disappearing deadfall mystery was quickly solved. You stopped near Bucky and watched as he split the last long piece in half. Not going to be working on your fort at all this time or for a while.

As he bent to pull one half over the spot he’d chosen to use as a chopping block, he finally noticed you. Standing up and nodding at you, he said, “Figured you’d be at your treehouse for a while.”

“It’s a fort, and, uh….” you didn’t want to discourage him but weren’t sure how to explain that he’d completely stripped a rather large area of an important resource. Exhaling sharply, you tried to think of how your dad would have handled this. 

Bucky looked concerned as he asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, not really, just—” you sighed. He wasn’t going to be coming out here again anyway. No point in raining on his parade since it wasn't the end of the world. Shaking your head, you said, “It’s nothing, just finished sooner than I thought.”

“That’s good,” he said, and you could see him getting ready to ask another question. 

Cutting him off, you put your sharp and pointy things away except for your pocket knife and said, “I’m gonna go out on the lake for a while.”

Bucky gave up on being a lumberjack, slamming your larger ax into a log before following you, “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?”

“Not going swimming,” you said, pointing at the shed Tony had let you put up out here, “Canoe.”

“Oh. Have fun,” Bucky said, sounding less than pleased as you walked away again. 

Bucky had insisted that he knew how to do this, and it was pretty obvious he didn’t know how to relax. You had even gone as far as listing some different activities for him to do, which he seemed somewhat interested in. You didn’t think he’d want to do things together, but maybe you’d been wrong. 

Shrugging it off, Bucky was a grown-ass man who had proved he was more than capable of asking for what he wanted. You didn’t need to coddle him if he didn’t have the balls to ask to join you while you looked up. Staring up at the sky, regardless of the time, was the best. If you had your music and something nice to think about, even better.

🐌

Bucky stepped on the last rock, pushing it down into the ground as much as he could before taking a seat on one of the larger logs he’d found. Looking out at the lake for at least the hundredth time, he saw your canoe and you lying down in it. He didn’t think anything was wrong or that you’d fallen asleep, but he didn’t understand why you’d lay in a canoe in the middle of a lake for this long. Maybe he had intruded or ruined something, but you were too polite to say anything. 

Instead of staring at you, which felt an awful lot like spying or peeping, he started stacking up the wood he’d cut again in a better spot and a little neater this time. If you weren’t back when he was done with that, then he’d go down to the shore and see if he could get your attention. 

Bucky didn’t like this. The fresh air and knowing that there wasn’t anything out here, but a bunch of squirrels and birds was great and all, but what was he supposed to do? Yes, you’d explained a number of things he could do, and you’d offered to show him some stuff, but he’d turned it all down. He didn’t want to encroach on your alone time and thought that was the right decision. 

Now that he was out here, he could feel how much he was imposing on you. Clearly, coming out here was something you did alone. He didn’t even remember how the stupid argument had started or how it led to him stacking old, dead wood in a pile for a second time, but he knew why he did this. Bucky was usually able to ignore his feelings, even though he wasn’t supposed to, but being out here with you had him dealing with something he had been avoiding. 

It’s the same reason he’d argue with you at the bar or hope he got paired with you on missions. He was too old for any of this and knew that he was not your type. You’d definitely had eyes for Steve, or you did at one point. Bucky and Steve had always been very different physically. Not that Bucky even bothered getting bent out of shape over this; he was past all that stuff now, even if certain parts of him disagreed with his complacency. 

Instead of bothering you, he would figure out how to entertain himself. Once you come back, he’d even suggest that you camp how you normally would and just pretend he wasn’t there, making this as easy on you as possible. He knew you didn’t use a tent; you probably slept in your treehouse, so he could take the tent. If you needed the tent, then he was fine sleeping in the car. 

By the time you were dragging your canoe on shore and flipping it over, Bucky had made up his mind about how to fix this: he’d leave. You didn’t need him here, and he didn’t want to force you. At some point tonight, he’d bring up having you call someone to come get him; it was for the best.

🐌

Walking back to the tent, you were growing concerned. Bucky was sitting on a log and staring at the small fire he’d made, looking like he was about to cry or throw up; it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

As you got closer, he looked up and had a tight, forced smile on his face before going back to the fire. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, but if he liked fire, then you weren’t going to complain about the nice coal base he was making.

“How’s it going?” you asked, hoping that he wasn’t as miserable as he looked.

Bucky cleared his throat before replying, “Good.”

Lies and slander, you thought as you went to the tent. Kneeling at the entrance, you grabbed your backpack and started digging. Pulling out your basic cooking stuff and the two compact chairs you’d purchased for this trip, you headed back to the fire. You set everything on the ground and started putting the first chair together as you said optimistically, “You got enough wood for a week out here.”

“Yeah…” he said as he turned and looked at the impressive stack anxiously.

“It’ll get used, no worries,” you said as you finished one chair and moved on to the next. Once you had both done, you picked them up and walked over to Bucky. Tapping the log he was sitting on with your foot, you held a chair out as you asked, “Hungry?”

Thankfully he took the chair, and when you pulled out the cooking grate from the pouch, he was curious again. It was almost like being with a kid with all the questions he asked, but when the steaks were brought out, he was back to being a very hungry super soldier. 

“I don’t normally bring this kinda food, but it’s a nice break,” you said as you arranged the coals and put the grate over a good spot. 

“What do you normally eat out here?” he asked, leaning forward and watching as you seasoned both steaks before putting them on the fire. 

Wiping your hands off on the towel tied to your belt, you shrugged, “Dehydrated stuff, like an MRE, or I’ll fish.”

Once he had food in him, Bucky seemed less sullen. You didn’t want to pester him about his feelings; you knew better than that. He never came back from therapy in a good mood, and you were far from a psychiatrist. Chatting a little as he kept the fire going, you were mostly silent as the sun started to go down. 

Slapping your hands on your knees after a long stretch of silence, you leaned forward and asked, “The sun's finally going down. Do you want the surprise or a drink first?”

He didn’t reply right away, narrowing his eyes at you before he said, “Not to be rude, but I’d rather not have any surprises.”

“Same time, then,” you said cheerily, not letting his perpetual bad mood affect you as you got up to go to the car. 

It was parked a decent way away from where you’d set things up, but it was a nice walk. You grabbed the two paper bags; one had the alcohol, and the other you’d hidden from Bucky. Even if he was being a grump about this, you still wanted to do the little stuff your parents and friends did. Never anything too crazy, but whenever you had someone new, then what you had in the other bag was necessary, along with alcohol if they were an adult. The first time camping wasn’t always pleasant for some people who weren’t used to being outside all night, but you’d yet to find someone immune to this particular treat. On your way back, you grabbed a nice stick and debated on whether or not you should tell Bucky about what you’d named the stick.

Handing him the flask of Asgardian liquor, you took out your bottle of wine but put the other paper bag next to your chair away from him. Bucky was watching you closely, and you grinned, “What?”

“Just get it over with,” he said, leaning back too hard in the nylon and aluminum chair and making it creak ominously.

“Nope, you don’t want to enjoy this, so now you can suffer,” you said as you grabbed Pierre, the stick, and started sharpening the tip. Was this a bit much? Yes. Was it also entirely necessary? Absolutely. The look on his face alone made it worth it as you sharpened Pierre. 

Before he was able to panic about what you might do with a sharpened stick, you were digging in the bag next to you. Pulling out two marshmallows, you couldn’t fight the smirk as you stuck them on the pointy end of Pierre. Then you grabbed a graham cracker, snapped it in half, and broke off a piece of chocolate. Setting the almost s’more on the log you’d been using as a small table before holding the stick over the fire. 

You could feel his gaze boring into you as he tried to pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask what you were doing. It took a few minutes of tense silence before the marshmallows were ready. Adjusting your hold on the stick so you could use the two halves of graham cracker to get all the gooey, toasted marshmallow off, you placed the finished s’more on the log before starting the process all over again. 

Once the second one was done, you glanced over at Bucky and giggled. His eyes darted from the s’more on the log up to your face, and he looked so guilty; it was priceless. You let him sulk as you counted to ten in your head before grabbing your bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, you caved and held out the first s’more. He’d had plenty of time to give in, and that wasn’t going to happen, so you took pity on him.

When he didn’t move, you said, “Try it.”

Still silent, he cautiously took the s’more and turned it a few times as he studied it before glancing back at you. You were almost halfway done with yours, leaning back as you happily chewed. Bucky brought it to his face to smell it when you’d finished yours. Before making another s’more for yourself, you got up to grab your Bluetooth speaker from your backpack. 

Sitting back down, you pulled your phone out and got it set up so you wouldn’t have to endure any more of this silence. You didn’t normally listen to music when you were out here and loved how quiet it was, but with him, this felt like torture. Any time you started thinking, he’d sigh or adjust in his seat, and your thoughts would be back on him. Letting your mind drift when Bucky was here wouldn’t end well.  

As difficult as Bucky could be, you thought he was still likable. Maybe too likable. You could never pin down what it was about him because it was never the same thing. One day it would be his eyes; the next, his voice when he’d yell at someone or make little grunting noises while running; then, by the afternoon, it’d be his thighs. You didn’t try to analyze this, just did your best not to make it weird while you were working and enjoy the view, which had been spectacular today. Today it was his back. Perfectly toned, the shirt he’d worn did nothing to hide what was underneath, and it had been on your mind while you stared at the clouds in the canoe. 

🐌

A couple of hours later and you were probably drunk as you finished giggling through another story. Bucky was considering taking the bottle of wine away from you, but he was feeling the effects of the Asgardian liquor and wanted at least two more s’mores. Making them didn’t seem hard, but he wanted the ones you made and didn’t think you’d cooperate without your wine. 

It wasn’t lost on him that you didn’t bring the steak and sweet things out with you but had done this specifically for him. He knew that trying to get someone to come pick him up had been a bad idea, and he was happy he hadn’t done anything other than think about it. 

“But the best thing—nope, sorry,” you cut yourself off, reaching into the paper bag to grab more marshmallows. Then you added, speaking more to yourself or possibly the marshmallows, “Forgot who I was with, and he doesn’t need to know about that.”

“Just tell me,” Bucky said, knowing he shouldn’t take another sip but did anyway. He didn’t get to drink this often and missed this feeling when the sharp edges of reality started getting soft and dull. Screwing the cap back on the flask, he pointed out, “You told me about the skinny dipping and leeches on some guy's balls. Not sure what you could say that could be worse than that.”

You groaned as you held the marshmallows over the fire, “Fine, but you don’t get to be weird about it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, shaking his head. Bucky wanted to know now because you hadn’t had any qualms about telling him anything else once you started talking. 

Taking a deep breath, you started, “Probably my favorite thing to do when I’m camping is…yeah, I can’t tell you. We aren’t those kinda friends.”

“You have to now,” Bucky said, keeping an eye on the marshmallows, so you didn’t burn them again, “Otherwise, I won’t go camping with you anymore.”

“You don’t want to be camping now,” you said, carefully turning the stick, so the marshmallows heated up evenly, “And after I tell you this, you’ll probably want to leave.”

Bucky was getting more curious and not able to hide it like he usually could. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at you and waited. 

You finished making him another s’more, then grabbed the half-drunk second bottle of wine. Glaring at him as you uncorked it and took a generous drink, then you jumped right in, “Sex in the woods. The first time was in high school. I was camping with some friends, we had some alcohol, and one thing led to another….”

This was worse than the leech story but in a very different way. Bucky needed to adjust how he was sitting, and you kept talking, “It’s the one thing I miss about before being recruited. Just going camping with some friends, getting shit-faced, and absolutely railed against a tree.”

Pointedly staring at the fire and trying to keep his face neutral, Bucky didn’t know what to say. He knew that some people on the team had their fun, but even after all the progress he’d made, that was one thing he hadn’t rekindled. Taking care of himself when things came up was one thing, but trying to find someone never seemed right, like he didn’t deserve it. 

He also had the same reasons that the others did: dating was impossible. Tony had Pepper, Nat was with Bruce, Thor had Jane, Wanda Vision, Clint was married, and even Steve had found someone, but no one who was still single tried to date civilians. It would never work, and he felt uncomfortable lying about his age. 

“Too much for you, Buckethead?” you asked, ripping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“What did you—no, just don’t have anything to add to the conversation,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as uncomfortable as he felt. 

Then you gasped, holding your hand over your mouth before saying in a scandalized voice, “You’ve never—”

“I have!” he shouted, realizing that he needed to end this before it got worse. Leaning toward you, he said in a carefully controlled voice, “Just not like that.”

You thought for a moment before you hesitantly said, “But, you’ve done it since… you know, coming back.”

“It’s none of your business, but no, I haven’t,” he said, not sure why he offered that information. 

“Why not?” you asked, looking offended at the mere idea that someone would refrain from sexual activity after being a human weapon for half a century.

All Bucky did was shake his head and focus on the fire. When he reached to grab a couple more logs, you said, “Nothing wrong with it. I guess unless you already have someone, once you're an Avenger, getting laid just isn’t an option.”

That had his mind trying to put something together, but he was buzzed and couldn’t figure it out right away. Bucky knew that the pieces were all there, but they didn’t fit together, and he had no idea what this particular puzzle was supposed to be. 

He hadn’t noticed how long you’d both been quiet until you started talking again, “Not that it’s any of my business, but you’d be surprised how many options you have. Agents alone, it’s staggering.”

Not what he had expected, but he wasn’t too drunk to be rude, “Could say the same about you.”

“Pfft, no man wants to get manhandled,” you said, and if Bucky wasn’t mistaken, there was something like hurt in your voice. 

The pieces were starting to come together, and he knew that letting you think like this about yourself wasn’t right. Adjusting in his chair, s’more uneaten in his hand, Bucky said, “Among the agents, maybe, but I’ve heard a few things.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know about Steve, and he only said that to be nice,” you said, grabbing the wine again. 

Bucky knew for a fact that Steve had not been trying to be nice when you were put on the spot at that party a few months ago. Steve had felt awful about not asking you out when Natasha had told your secret. 

Steve was happy, but Bucky knew that if the two of you were single at the same time, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until you’d been asked why you didn’t bring a date to that party and Natasha had done what she did that Steve said anything, but this had the final pieces of the puzzle falling into place. 

“Not just Steve,” Bucky offered cryptically, not sure why he didn’t just come out and say what he wanted to say. 

You seemed to be thinking, scrunching your nose before you asked, “Loki?”

Bucky shrugged; he didn’t know much about Loki but wouldn’t put it past him if you asked. He registered that he hadn’t been the first single person you’d thought of but did his best to keep that to himself. After avoiding even a quick look in your direction, he heard your giggle and started to panic. 

“Not happening, Buckingham,” you said as you grabbed your phone. The song changed abruptly before you added, “I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” Bucky asked, but you were standing and picking up your bottle of wine. When you grabbed your phone and the speaker, Bucky was up and said, “You aren’t running off again. You’ve had too much—”

“You aren’t the boss of me,” you said confidently as you almost dropped your phone. Shoving it in your pocket, you added, “I’m going to the dock and look up.”

🐌

You didn’t know how long you’d been laying on the dock with Bucky, but you also weren’t thinking about time right now. After you’d gotten comfortable, you were enjoying the music, singing along quietly to yourself. 

“Didn’t know you could sing,” Bucky said, but it didn’t sound like he was talking to you. 

“I can’t,” you said but went back to it. 

You couldn’t be bothered to care about much right now. Even Bucky following you down here, insisting that he was keeping an eye on you, didn’t matter. He didn’t lay down right away either, just stood for a little while, but when he did, he was close enough that you could feel his warmth even though he wasn’t touching you. It was nice, but you were trying not to think about it.

“Was it just Steve?” Bucky asked; apparently, he was determined not to enjoy this. 

You didn’t know what he was asking, so you answered his question with a question, “Just Steve, what?”

He touched you. Nothing weird, but it still felt weird as he nudged you with his elbow and said, “You know.”

“Oh,” you sighed, and the wine made it seem like a great idea, to be honest, “No, but I don’t really think about that stuff unless, uh… yeah.”

Not being able to see his doofy face made this easier to talk about, but it was still not something you wanted to do. You couldn’t believe you were actually having this conversation with Bucky. 

“Same,” he said like you were at a sleepover and enjoying some girl talk. He didn’t stop either, adding in an almost wistful tone, “But sometimes….”

“Sometimes what?” you asked, probably faster than you should have. 

He chuckled before he answered bashfully, “I dunno. Sometimes things pop into your head… um… during that.”

You nearly fell off the dock. You sat up and, with a wicked grin, asked, “James Buchanan Barnes, have you had impure thoughts about one of your teammates?”

He glared up at you and said defiantly, “Yeah. So have you, now lose the judgemental tone.”

“Who?” you asked, desperate to find out you weren’t above begging, “You gotta tell me.” You weren't thinking anything other than getting some juicy gossip now. Better than getting your hopes up for no reason. 

“You really wanna know?” he asked, not able to look at you as he sat up. 

Bucky was so close now, even though you’d been closer, just not on a dock, at night, alone. You knew he’d ask you the same thing once he gave it up, and you did not have a good answer. He’d been the only interest you’d had for a while. The whole thing with Steve, which was strange to have brought up out of nowhere, had just been an excuse. You didn’t want to give Nat any good information, so you picked tall, blond, and taken. Steve was nice enough, but he was not Bucky.

Bending his knees and wrapping his arms around them, he was staring straight ahead as he said, “Not sure I should tell you.”

“Tease,” you hissed before laying back down. You didn’t want to seem like you were actually mad. You were thankful he’d spared your feelings as you added dismissively, “But suit yourself.”

You had reached for your phone when he leaned over and said, “Is saying ‘I’d rather show you’ too cheesy or—hmph.”

Not hesitating, the second those four words left his mouth, you were jerking him down to kiss him. It was friggin’ glorious like you were drowning in him. When he pulled back, a strange, almost dazed look on his face, you thought you’d turn into mud and seep through the boards of the dock and dissolve in the lake. 

He searched your eyes for a moment before he asked, “So… who was yours?”

He’s an idiot, you thought as you said, “You’re an idiot.”

“And you have terrible taste in men,” he muttered, but he didn’t move away. 

Even in the moonlight, you could see his eyes darting down to your lips. You didn’t want to try to figure this out or sort out what you’d do after tonight; you had a better idea. Holding your hand up, you tapped his forehead before slowly dragging your finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips as you said, “I do, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

He spoke as you traced along his jaw, “This is probably a bad idea.”

“And he’s grumpy again,” you sighed after talking to the lake, pushing yourself up and snatching your stuff before turning and walking back to land. 

You could hear him scrambling to get up and nearly falling into the frigid water, but he didn’t, so you kept walking. It didn’t take him long to catch up to you, and then he was talking fast, “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t want to make working together weird.”

“It’s been weird the whole time,” you point out before stopping. He was a few feet away, and you gave him a thorough once-over before you asked, “Were you lying?”

He looked genuinely stunned, and it took him a moment before he shook his head, “No, were you?”

“No,” you replied immediately. Bucky couldn’t even look at you, his head turned away, but you weren’t backing down as you took a step toward him and asked, “Then what’s the problem, Buckle?”

It was like he was having an argument with himself, and you were thoroughly entertained by how you could almost tell what he was thinking by his expressions. Closing the distance, you knew nothing was going to come of this, and you just wanted to push him a little further before going back to the fire. You’d both laugh about this later as you whispered, “C’mon, show me how a girl’s supposed to be treated.”

His face was slack as he slowly turned his head to look at you. A fraction of a second before you were going to shove his shoulder and start laughing this tension off, he grabbed you. His hands kept you in place as he kissed the life out of you. Kissing him again, but this time because he started it, was better. You didn’t think dissolving in the lake was a good way to go anymore, but turning into mud on this path would be perfect. 

Bucky pulled away to take a breath, his hands still on either side of your face as he said, “Steve’s gonna kill me.”

“Steve never stood a chance,” you shot back, enjoying the pained expression on Bucky’s face. 

Guiding you backward as he spoke, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” you asked, grinning up at him. 

“Givin’ me ideas, doll,” he said as your back hit a tree. He didn’t stop moving, though, pressing you against it as he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “This isn’t going to be just tonight.”

“Yeah?” you were practically vibrating with excitement, drinking in every word he said. 

“Or this trip,” he added, your knees starting to feel weak. He pressed his lips to yours before he asked, “That work for you?”

All you managed was a dreamy, distant-sounding, “Uh huh.”

“You’re all mine,” Bucky said, barely loud enough for you to hear, but you heard it. 

You weren’t able to reply as he scooped you up. Leaning against the tree as your legs wrapped around his waist, you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again. His lips parted, and even if this was all that happened, it was easily the best you’d ever had on a camping trip. 

Your tongue circled his as your hands found the back of his head. He broke the kiss again, but only to start kissing your neck, his stubble only adding to your pleasure. Head falling back against the tree, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Please don’t stop.”

Bucky chuckled as he moved a little higher, nipping your earlobe before he said, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, “Wasn’t planning on it. You sold me on this camping stuff.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his head back to kiss him again before you demanded, “Lose the shirt.”

You didn’t loosen your legs when his hands left you, leaning against the tree and gripping him with your thighs. Bucky smirked as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it behind him onto the path. When his arms were around you again, you barely noticed he was carrying you. You were too busy running your hands along as much of his back as you could reach, and it was better than you’d imagined in the canoe earlier. 

Once you noticed you weren’t still against a tree, you were pulling your own shirt over your head and dropping it somewhere behind Bucky as he walked. He groaned again, taking his eyes off of the dimly lit path to stare at your sports bra, which had been a mistake. 

As he tripped, Bucky managed to turn so that he landed on his back instead of you while you unhooked your legs and placed your hands on his chest. It was only a few seconds, but with all the training you’d both had, not getting hurt from falling on the ground was easy. 

He didn’t miss a beat, pulling you down on top of him as soon as he landed. Planting one hand on your ass and the other on the back of your head, but you didn’t let him kiss your lips again as you asked, “You okay?”

“Never been better,” he said against your neck before trailing kisses lower. 

The hand on the back of your head moved between your shoulder blades, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He was pinching and pulling at the back of your sports bra like it would magically open for him when it was a pullover. 

Pushing yourself up, shaking your head as you pulled it over your head. When you looked down at Bucky he was staring at your tits like he hadn’t seen any in a long time, and you realized he probably hadn’t seen any in person for maybe seventy years. His appreciative leering was sweet. 

You took his right hand, lifting it to your lips before wrapping them around his middle finger. His hips lurched as his jaw dropped, but he regained control of himself enough to say, “You are asking for trouble, doll.”

With a pop, you pulled his finger from his mouth before joking, “Keep calling me that, and I’ll ruin your life.”

“It’s yours to ruin,” he said, pulling you down before he saw your reaction. 

It was hard to think with him kissing and sucking on your tits, but you still heard what he’d said. All the strange almost-feeling things he’d said were rattling around in your head as his left hand grabbed your ass firmly and his right was teasing your nipple. You tried to shake it off. He couldn’t have meant it. Bucky, like Steve, still said weird shit like they were back in the 40s, and you were just going to assume that this was one of those things. It was probably some old-fashioned version of dirty talk. People used to mate for life back then, but he couldn’t mean any of this. 

You arched your back as you adjusted your hips, making sure that he was distracted before you started to move. He moaned against your skin, which helped clear your mind. Taking one of your nipples into his mouth and the hand on your ass moved lower, your eyes fluttered closed. This was better than you imagined.

Grinding against him, you realized one key part was missing from this: his dick. You started moving lower, thinking maybe that was the issue, and still nothing but his jeans. Giggling as you wondered if Bucky needed little blue pills, you wouldn’t care if he did; this was more fun than you’d had in a long time. 

Even if he couldn’t get hard, maybe it was psychological, you knew a few ways you could still make sure he felt good. Sitting up, you slid down and knelt between his legs. His head popped up and he looked so confused. With a grin, you kissed the center of his chest, then moved to give him a taste of his own medicine. Some guys felt nothing from this, while others would lose their minds; Bucky was part of the latter group. 

Sealing your lips and slowly licking around his nipple, you heard him slam his vibranium fist against the ground as he gasped. You sucked hard, and his other hand left your shoulder to rip at the grass. Since you were only getting positive feedback, you decided to push your luck and gently tug with your teeth. Bucky’s back arched as he let out a shuddering moan. 

“You are too much fun,” you whisper before pressing your lips a little lower. 

He was panting as you kissed lower, then he asked, “Where do ya think your goin’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, your hands already on his pants. 

Making quick work of the button fly, you gently kissed just above the band of his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were pressed against his forehead, then he gasped and lifted his head. He got up on his elbows as you jerked at his jeans, and he was smirking at you. 

He raised his hips, making it easier for you to get up on your knees to pull his jeans off, but you were distracted almost immediately. Bucky’s pants, barely halfway down his thighs, stopped moving as you understood why you hadn’t felt anything. It was like a present for being cool if his dick didn’t work, and you rarely got to enjoy good karma. 

“Something wrong, doll?” Bucky asked, and you remembered that he was there. 

Looking up with wide eyes, you shook your head and tried to say two things at once but managed to jumble them, “Nothing’s good—fuck, I mean, I’m good, nothing’s wrong.” You shot him a big smile, but he was worried now. 

He pushed himself up, grabbing your hands before you could finish unleashing the beast, and he said so gently, “We don’t have to—”

“I am keenly aware of what I want to do, James,” you cut him off, and in a moment of unhealthy hubris, you also grabbed his dick. This was meant to prove your point, but it was ruined when you realized it was too thick to get your hand around, and you hissed, “Fucking hell….”

Bucky tensed up the second you touched him and said in a strained voice, “You’re in… charge, so… don’t—oh, damnit, don’tworryaboutme.”

All your life, you’d made a point of doing things for other people, and not because you were supposed to or some misguided idea about wanting to be a good person; you enjoyed making people happy. As you tried to wrap your head around this situation, like your hand around his cock, you couldn’t resist this as an idea started to form in your head, and you ran with it. 

You loosened your grip before starting to stroke him gently over his boxer briefs. Bucky’s hands were in the dirt again, which meant he wasn’t touching you any time soon, so why not play with him a little? Leaning close, you ran your nose along the shell of his ear as you asked, “I’m in charge?”

He nodded vigorously as he muttered, “Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want….” you repeated his words as your hand ran over his length, and he moaned again. You kissed him just below his ear before you whispered, “I think I’d rather show you what I want.” 

He gasped when you shoved at his chest but fell backward like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t bother trying to get his pants off now, they weren’t in your way as you bowed between his legs. Planting your knees further apart, so you didn’t feel as bunched up, you pressed your lips to the obscene bulge under the fabric. 

“Fuck,” Bucky gasped. 

His back arched again as you kissed up his length to the base. You’d had an idea that he might be packing some serious equipment, but it paled in comparison to how responsive he was to your attention. You’d barely done anything, and he was breathing harder than he did after running at full speed. 

Kissing your way back up his shaft, you had your hands on his thighs, squeezing them and feeling the firm muscles underneath. His legs were a recurring favorite for you, and finally, being able to touch them like this was enough to ruin your underwear. Sliding them higher, you pushed your fingertips under the hem of his boxer briefs. 

You teased the skin there as you said, “Tell me what you’d think about.”

“What?” he asked, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. 

Delving a little further and running a finger over the head of his cock had his rapt attention. In a second, he was propped up on his elbows and torn between what your hand was doing and your face. You didn’t mind, he was supposed to enjoy this, but you wondered if you could have your cake and hear it tell you dirty things too. 

“You said things would pop into your head sometimes, and I want to know what kind of ideas you had,” you explained, your hand completely inside the leg of his boxer briefs as you continued to barely touch his cock. 

He shook his head absently as he said, “Nothing like this.”

“Better or wor—”

“This is so much better,” he cut you off, and you giggled at how quickly he spoke. 

Getting your hand underneath his cock, you wrapped your fingers around it as best you could. Slowly, you started stroking him properly as you asked, “What do you like, Bucky?”

He was focused on your hand moving inside his boxer briefs as he answered in barely more than a whisper, “You… just you.”

Well, you hadn’t expected that, but you were in too deep now. Not faltering your movement, you pushed your luck as far as you wanted to and said as lightly as you could, “You really need to stop saying stuff like that.”

As he answered, you started working his full length, and he seemed to lose focus, “Can’t help it… Oh, shit, you have no idea what you do to me.”

You had a pretty good idea but didn’t want to point that out. If he was the type to say a bunch of dramatic shit during, then you just needed to remember it was just words, and he didn’t mean it. 

With your free hand, you pulled the fabric up and wondered if you had died and gone to pretty dick heaven. Angling his cock, you leaned close and swirled your tongue around the head. 

Bucky made a strangled noise before slapping a hand over his mouth. You looked up to see his panicked expression as he leaned on one elbow. With a wicked grin, you opened your mouth and flicked your tongue where the head of his cock flared out before you said, “Make all the noise you want. No one’s around to hear you but me.”

He shook his head, keeping his mouth covered, and you couldn’t help yourself, “Bet you make all sorts of fun noises.”

His brow furrowed as you gently took the tip in your mouth again, slipping your tongue in a circle and tasting his precum. You kissed him again before you asked, “Isn’t your room soundproof?”

The realization on his face was glorious. He seemed to forget about covering his mouth as his arm fell back to the ground, a knowing smirk on his face. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a reply, and he didn’t disappoint, “They told me it was.”

You did enjoy his inability to handle anything you’d done to him so far, but the faint hint of a Bucky with control over himself was like something out of one of your fantasies. Dragging your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about how best to approach this, you arched a brow as you said, “Would be fun to test if it worked.”

“Wha—oh, my God!” Bucky was going to ask you something, but you cut him off, and he ended up shouting. 

Taking him as far as you could quickly and gagging when he hit the back of your throat abruptly, you weren’t able to see what happened, but you could hear it. Bucky hit the ground with a thud, followed by what had to be his fists again slamming into the ground and digging his fingers into it. 

When you’d done this before, one hand around the bottom was enough but not with Bucky. As you started to bob your head, both hands stroking what you couldn’t get into your mouth, you weren’t going to stop unless he started making scary sounds. 

“Shi—holy, fuckmewhat—oh, Christ—” and on and on he went as he squirmed. 

His hips mindlessly rutted as he tore at the ground, and his legs flexed around you. It wasn’t until he stopped making noise that you knew the fun was probably close to over. Bucky was panting again, grunting with each exhale as his cock got even harder, and you knew he was going to cum soon. Not how you wanted this to go if it happened, but you knew that this wasn’t about you right now. 

Focused on making sure he’d thoroughly enjoy this, you slid one hand lower and cupped his balls, gently at first, just to see how he’d react. When he let out a loud moan, and you felt them tighten, you started to massage them, and Bucky seemed to snap. 

“I-I-I… not like thi—pleasepleasepleaseplea-Ohh fuuuck!” he shouted as his back arched high off the ground. 

His cock throbbed in your hand and mouth as he came. You took everything he had, surprised that it didn’t taste as bad as you remembered cum tasting. All things considered, taking his load in the mouth was one thing but what you did next might have been a bit much. 

Before you’d been able to pull off, he was up and dragging you off his dick. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. You kept them closed, but he wasn’t having it, nearly growling against your lips, “Kiss me.”

You did the only logical thing: you swallowed. It made what seemed like a deafening gulping sound, and Bucky pulled back. He had the strangest look on his face, and you tried to lighten the mood by grinning as you asked, “So… you having fun?”

Still staring at you like you’d suddenly turned into a reverse mermaid, where the bottoms are legs, and the top is a fish, you were getting nervous. You placed a hand on his, not hiding the concern in your voice, and asked, “You okay?”

He shook his head, looking away from you as he took a deep breath. This was an improvement until he nodded and looked at you again before he said, “Next time, don’t swallow it.”

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Fuck everything. If you want to get tagged, let me know (comment, ask, message). I'm going to cut it off at 15, so first cum first served.